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I learned that she had separated some time back and was undergoing a divorce. Her husband had an affair and was going for another marriage. I thought ...ow a guy can leave a gorgeous woman like her. She had recently shifted to Mumbai to come out of the turmoil. We had a long talk and then bid goodbye, planning to meet soon.In the interim, we started messaging each other, which brought us to a comfort level.The following week we decided to meet for dinner. I picked her up from her home. She looked. Slightly older, slightly sneakier.Music had blared through the clubhouse and fifteen year old Frida danced naked as Mike and Edward tossed quarters into a hat. The song ended and Frida picked up the hat, blew the two boys a kiss, and slipped into the stairwell, closing the door behind her as just over a dozen teenagers of similar age applauded loudly.“Frida will be back after this next song,” Fred shouted, “so grab another drink and get your Abe Lincolns ready if you want a special dance.”As. I thought for a while and got a superb idea. I asked her to come to the car shed at 2am that night. She was still afraid and asked “Why not we wait for sometime and find an apt time to do it some other day?” But I was starving to fuck her for so long. So I did not want to postpone it. I told her that we will close the car shed shutter and nobody will hear us. She thought for a while and then agreed. So we finalised the time at 2am and went back home. I also asked her to come 5-10 minutes in. "Shut up. Whores don't talk." The other hand clamped down on her right breast and squeezed hard. She winced. "You gonna talk again?"Monica shook her head as much as the hand on her mouth would let her.She heard the metallic ring of a blade drawn from the utensil drawer next to her hips. She felt cold steel for the second time as the blade grazed her stomach. She winced again, not sure what to expect."Whores don't wear clothes either."Monica heard a ripping sound and felt the cool air of her.
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